"The Diamond Cave!" cried Peterkin, "then my chance is a poor one, for I could not dive into it if all the pirates on the Pacific were at my heels."
"Nay, but," said I, "we will take you down, Peterkin, if you will only trust us."
As I spoke, we observed the pirates scatter over the beach, and radiate, as if from a centre, towards the woods and along shore.
"Now, Peterkin," said Jack, in a solemn tone, "you must make up your mind to do it, or we must make up our minds to die in your company."
"Oh, Jack, my dear friend," cried Peterkin, turning pale, "leave me; I don't believe they'll think it worth while to kill me. Go, you and Ralph, and dive into the cave."
"That will not I,' answered Jack quietly, while he picked up a stout cudgel from the ground. "So now, Ralph, we must prepare to meet these fellows. Their motto is 'No quarter.' If we can manage to floor those coming in this direction, we may escape into the woods for a while."
"There are five of them," said I; "we have no chance."
"Come, then," cried Peterkin, starting up, and grasping Jack convulsively by the arm, "let us dive; I will go."
Those who are not naturally expert in the water know well the feelings of horror that overwhelm them, when in it, at the bare idea of being held down, even for a few seconds,—that spasmodic involuntary recoil from compulsory immersion which has no connection whatever with—cowardice; and they will understand the amount of resolution that it required in Peterkin to allow himself to be
